Lupus
by SydneyTheSquidney
Summary: Kathryn Herondale is the best Shadowhunter on Earth after only her father, Jace Herondale. Her life revolves around killing demons and rouge Downworlders, but one night on a routine hunt she is attacked by a werewolf. When Kathryn is Turned, everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

The worst night of my life began with demon hunting.

I stalked silently behind Jason, my sword drawn. I heard him name his seraph blade as the lights in the abandoned warehouse dimmed as if there was something sucking away all of the power from the building.

Jason turned around, pulling his hood down. His bright blue eyes were like a lighthouse in the shady warehouse, and full of excitement.

Jason had been my best friend for as long as I could remember. We grew up together in the New York Institute. My parents had welcomed him into the Institute when his parents moved to Idris permanently and Jason hadn't wanted to leave New York.

His parents left when Jason was twelve, and he had argued that he was old enough to make his own decisions concerning his training. Jason's parents were not pleased, but my mother and father spoke with them and then Jason's parents begrudgingly agreed for my family to train him here in the United States.

I never really questioned why Jason wanted to stay instead of going to the beautiful Idris, but I never pried. He never pried with me, so why would I bother him?

Either way, Jason loved training with my parents. They were Shadowhunting legends, people with extraordinary amount of angelic blood. That passed on to me, Kathryn Herondale, and now I am one of the best Shadowhunters of my age. I'm not trying to be self-centered, but it's true. I have an amazing talent for runes, and while I couldn't create new ones like my mother, I could understand and draw incredibly powerful ones. That's not even mentioning my physical prowess, my lean, muscular build and my great ability handling weapons.

Jason named two more blades and stuck them into his belt, running a hand into his thick brown hair. His face was flushed with anticipation for the fight and his breathing was quick.

I was completely relaxed. Marks twined my arms and seraph blades and my sword were stuck into my belt. I lived for the fight, lived for the adrenaline rush that came with the slash of a seraph blade or the lunge of a sword.

I was just finishing a strength rune on the back of my hand when I heard a rustling noise. I whipped around, exchanging my stele for a seraph blade in the blink of an eye. "_Raphael,_" I whispered, holding the blade out for light. I kept staring for a few minutes until Jason called my name softly and I reluctantly turned around.

Jason motioned with his hand quickly for me to peer through a couple of boxes, giving me a view of the demon.

It looked like an orb covered in mucus, or at least that was my first impression. Then I saw the serrated teeth and thick legs sticking from the bottom of the orb. Upon closer examination, I realized that it was covered in tiny teeth.

I grimaced. I'd never seen a demon like this before, but it wasn't something I couldn't handle.

"That mucus may be like that of the Behemoth demon," I whispered to Jason. I wasn't sure if the thing could hear or not, but I wasn't willing to take a chance. "So let's not use seraph blades."

He nodded, and exchanged his seraph blade for a sword at his belt. Then, as I unsheathed my sword, he worked on slowly inching the boxes farther and farther apart until we could squeeze through.

I held my sword at my side as I followed Jason through the boxes. It was my constant companion, a matte black blade and plain leather hilt that meant the world to me. I had owned the sword since I started Shadowhunting training years ago at the age of ten, and it was like my _parabatai_. The blade was designed with a pattern of small silver birds flying, a nod to my family name, Herondale. It was a gift to me by my father, which made it even more special.

I squeezed between the boxes after Jason, and turned to face the demon. It was now turning slowly in place, and Jason was slowly circling the demon so where he was constantly behind it.

The second I saw a beady black eye fix its glare on me, I lunged forward with the sword. It split open at the middle and I saw a gaping bloody mouth full of serrated teeth.

I drove my blade downward and Jason came behind the demon, slicing it in half right as I yanked out my sword. It burst into ashes and I stepped back, grinning.

"Easy peasy," I laughed, sheathing my blade. Jason was wiping ashes and ichor off of his knife on the sleeve of his gear and he nodded, smiling.

A few minutes later, we were packed and ready to leave the warehouse. I slid the now-dulled seraph blades into my gear. I walked ahead of Jason as he flicked his hood up again.

"I'm kind of disappointed," Jason confessed, his tone light. "I expected more. I at least wanted some blood and gore, you know?"

Of course, he was kidding. Only just last year he suffered a devastating injury from a Scorpios demon, and had only resumed his duties in the last couple of months.

"Yeah, sure. I'd love to spend more time at your bedside in the Institute," I joked, drawing a seraph blade to wipe a smudge from the glossy surface.

Jason was about to say something when a furry mass leapt out in front of me, and a jolting pain rocked my left shoulder.

I named the blade with a gasp and tried to sink it into the creature, but missed because now the pain was spreading. I collapsed, only aware of a tinny ringing in my ear.

Jason was screaming something, and a shining arc flew into my line of vision. I heard a whimper but the thing kept attacking, clawing at my abdomen and throat, biting at anything it could. A scream ripped from my throat, and unearthly wail that tore at my vocal cords.

I felt a ripping near my ankle, and hot liquid spread up my leg. Jason had begun slashing at the thing on top of me, and I felt hot drops of blood – it's or mine, I wasn't sure – drip onto my stomach. I felt only one sensation: Pain. White-hot pain lanced up my body when I tried to turn my head, so I held still.

I heard a yowl and felt the immense pressure of the being lifted off of me as Jason stabbed it once more and knelt down beside me, three long diagonal scratches passing over his nose and onto his cheeks.

"By the Angel… Kathryn. Kathryn, talk to me. Now." His voice was pleading and high-pitched, as if he was fighting back tears.

I couldn't talk to him, though. I could only look into his blue eyes as small as puddle and wide as oceans, and then I did something I never did. I cried.

Tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I made soft whimpering sounds as I cried, my entire body shaking with pain and fear. I was supposed to be the best. I didn't cry.

"Oh, no, Kathryn, please hang on," Jason pleaded, tears now dripping from his face. He had gotten out his cell phone, a slim black device, and was dialing the Institute even as he talked to me.

"Kathryn, don't close your eyes." My eyes drifted together, but snapped open as the urging continued. I wondered why the world was spinning. I wondered why it felt like I was lying in a puddle of water. I wondered why I couldn't feel my legs.

And I shut my eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up in the hospital wing of the Institute, a bright light flooding my vision as soon as I cracked my eyes open. I could almost imagine my eyelids ripping as I opened them, and watched to rub them, but I couldn't raise my arms without an intense pain in my shoulders.

Instantly, fear gripped my chest. I couldn't live like this. What if I couldn't fight again? What if I was permanently injured? I was broken out of these thoughts by the calm voice of my father.

"Kathryn," Relief filled his voice, and I turned my head to see a tall, lean blonde man in jeans staring at me. Jace Herondale ran his hands through his close-cropped hair and sat back in utter relief, laughing quietly and rubbing his face. "Oh, Kathryn. I love you. I love you so much."

I tried to speak, but all that came out was kind of a weak wheezing. Jace sat forward and reached for something on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Don't try and speak," He shushed me softly. "You've been out for a week."

My eyes widened, and he grinned. "Your mother has been so worried… And so has Joseph. He's been sitting by your bedside for days now. Clary finally took him to Taki's, so I came in to sit." Jace raised a glass to my lips, and I let the cold liquid trickle down my throat.

I finally found my voice. "What happened?" I rasped, my voice low and husky.

Jace let out a puff of air. "You went out on a routine demon hunt, and were attacked." Jace kept it short and sweet. "Really badly. By the time we got there, we thought you were dead…" Again, he ran his hands through his short hair. He looked distressed, and his hands shook slightly. "Magnus barely got to you in time. Your heart stopped…" He choked out a sob, and reached out a hand as if he wanted to touch my face, but jerked back.

"What attacked me?" I forced out after a pause in which Jace composed himself.

Jace looked down, squeezing his hands into fists. I knew this look. It was the look he gave Belle Rosewood when her child was murdered by rouge vampires. The look he gave Eli Youngdove as he lay on his deathbed in the Institute while on a mission from Idris. The look that meant horrible news.

"Dad…" I began, fighting past a lump in my throat, but he finally found his voice.

"It was a werewolf," Jace's voice was quiet. And my heart stopped.

I felt like a marionette whose strings had been snipped, like my world had fallen apart and I had lost control. The bottom had dropped out from underneath me.

And all I could think was: _I'm going to die_. I couldn't live without being a Shadowhunter. Sure, I had no problem with Downworlders. My grandfather, Luke, is a werewolf. But I was the best Shadowhunter on the Earth right now. I couldn't become a werewolf. I absentmindedly rubbed the Voyance rune on the back of my right hand. It was a part of me, as much as my brain and heart and lungs. As were the other permanent as well as temporary runes that decorated my body.

I became aware of a pain in my chest, and realized I wasn't breathing. Jace had a look of complete and utter anguish and misery on his face, not because he was ashamed of me but because he would feel the same way had it happened to him.

"Kathryn…" He was crying now, silently. "I wish it was me. I wish it was me."

All I could do was touch my cheeks and feel the liquid running down my face, hot and salty tears that dripped onto the bandages covering my body.

Hours later, I fell asleep with tears still flowing freely from my eyes.

When I woke, Jason stood above me and he looked so perfectly normal that I thought everything was okay. But then I remembered, and gasped softly as an onslaught of pain, both physical and mental, rolled over my body.

"Kathryn," Jason let out his breath in relief and sank into a chair. "Kathryn. Kathryn. By the Angel…" He buried his face into his hands. There were bags underneath his eyes and his skin was pale and sallow, as if he hadn't slept in days.

I forced my gaze away. Looking at Jason only hurt. It brought of memories of hunting demons and his strong hand on my arm as he applied Marks to my skin. The part of my brain controlling me right now didn't focus on the fact that there was a twenty-five to fifty percent chance that I would still be a Shadowhunter. That I wouldn't Turn.

"I thought you were dead," Jason's voice was high-pitched and thick. I whipped my head around, for a moment forgetting my own woes. Yeah, we were best friends and had been for years, but I wouldn't think that he would _cry _over me. And sure enough, tears were leaking from his deep blue eyes.

I was about to comment on that fact when the door slammed open and in came a tall, muscled young man. The second Jason saw him, he straightened up and tried to clear his face, wiping tears off of his face.

"Oh, baby," Joseph knelt next to my bed, his brown eyes widening. "Look at you."

I sniffed, and for some reason I really didn't want to see my boyfriend right now. Joseph had moved to New York a few years ago when his parents were stationed to be trained by mine. We had started dating about five months ago.

Joseph cupped my face in his hand and rubbed my cheek with his thumb, but it hurt and I winced. He kept rubbing, though, and Jason leaned forward.

"Stop that. Can't you see it hurts?" Jason protested.

Joseph immediately fixed his brown glare onto Jason. "You shut up, skinny boy," Joseph hissed. I tried to sit up to intervene, but I was too weak.

Jason's normally friendly blue eyes turned to steel, but he didn't say anything. Joseph took his hand away, and went back to crooning to me.

"Oh, my girl… We'll get through this together, okay?" He rubbed his blond head in anguish. "Nothing a little _iratze _won't fix, right?"

But I knew that his words were hollow. Jason was sitting back, color rising in his cheekbones. I wasn't going to be okay, no matter what either of them said. They obviously didn't know the truth. Joseph wouldn't've come to see me if he knew that I could be a werewolf.

Joseph and I had never had a strong relationship. He had come from Georgia, giving him a slight southern accent and a massive attitude. Yeah, maybe the attitude didn't come from the south, but his personality wasn't surprising considering how difficult his parents were. They were always pestering my parents, asking for tips and errands as they sat in their plush loft. They had no interest in improving their Shadowhunting skills, we all knew that. They came here for the city, not the training.

But anyway, Joseph was the type of boyfriend that you are never secure in, and I personally wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, which wasn't far. He was built like a linebacker, tall and bulky. Why I dated him, I had no idea. I guess some part of me was worried about what would happen if I did break up with him.

Joseph had begun to speak again when the door opened once more, and a small red-headed woman marched in.

I wished I looked more like my parents. I had medium-length straight brown hair, a stark opposite from my parent's curly hair. I had some of my mother in the set of my jaw, and some of my father in the athletic build. My brilliant green eyes were flecked with gold, though, and that was about the only physical trait other than my build I seemed to receive.

Clarissa Herondale flew immediately to my bed, shoving Joseph out of the way as her eyes brimmed with tears. Jason stood instantly and said good-bye quietly, recognizing the fact that we wanted privacy. Joseph was a bit more reluctant, but my mother shot him a glare and he left.

"Mom," I felt relief spill into my veins at the sight of her face. Why, I have no idea. "Mom."

I had started to cry. She was crying, too, and bent over to gently touch my face. I took in a deep breath, the tears flowing harder. I've cried more in the past few days than I had in my entire life.

"How do you feel?" Mom asked. I just shook my head, and she reached into her jeans pocket to draw out a miniscule vial.

"This will help heal everything up, okay?" I nodded. Mom didn't seem to have anything else to say, so we just sat together for a while. It helped me, though, and before too long I had gulped down the contents of the bottle and fell unconscious.


End file.
